And He Smiled Like It All Meant Nothing
by Katieelessar
Summary: He always imagined his last meal would resemble a cheeseburger and coffee. Dean's last day. Wincest warning.


Title: And He Smiled Like It All Meant Nothing

Author: Katieelessar

Rating: PG

Warnings: Wincest, nothing too explicit, just kissing and implied sex

Paring: Sam/Dean

Summary: He always imagined his last meal would resemble a cheeseburger and coffee.

A/N: I did my best to do the last day justice.

This story contains Wincest. If that bothers you, please click that button that says 'Back'. I know it's not for some. Please don't bash me.

* * *

Moving forward, looking back, time meant nothing at all. 

Except it meant everything.

The days slip by, more shorter than others until the clock reads 3:48 am on 365 and he's forced to make a decision.

Warm breath brushes his neck, awake, alive and everything.

He never stopped trying, never stopped fighting.

_I can't fix this._

_I never wanted you to._

I know, he thinks. Too sick to put something in his mouth, too tired to sleep, too alive to watch him die.

* * *

The road stretches always behind, always in front. He never turns around, never wants to see the moments that had already passed. They remind him too heavily of the few he has in front. Clouds swell in the sky. 

He's looking out the window when it happens.

A hand slips into his, so firm and so light he could've imagined it.

_I love you, you know._

And the hand moves quickly to grip the steering wheel again, eyes trained to the road as if he hadn't said anything.

The rain falls and he can't say anything.

* * *

They've stopped at Fred's Diner when tears enter the scene. 

It's stupid really. Something he'd be laughed at later but…

But.

A man runs into him, colliding hard into his shoulder on his way through the door.

_Watch it, bud._

And like that, something breaks loose in his gut. Everything punching out of him until his knuckles bleed hot and tattered and an iron grip pulls him away.

_Dammit, Sammy, let it go._

But he can't. Not when the clock's striking 3:48 and there's only 12 hours left.

He flings himself out of the hands, feet snapping the ground until the town falls away to road, sky and land. Grass slips beneath his feet and the air hugs him too tightly.

He doesn't turn around when the car rides up beside him. Doesn't stop walking until a heavy hand pulls his shoulder around. Doesn't stop breathing until he sees the face in front of him. A face that infuses so much concern and fear and strength and undying love.

Undying.

And like that, his head presses into the soaked, leather clad shoulder, tears mixing with rain and sweat.

His head rises for a moment to press something desperate from his lips to Dean's.

* * *

They chase the sun until it slips to the horizon to meet lands across the Atlantic. 

Warm fingers graze his neck as he turns away from the window. Stars are spilling out into the sky too quickly.

_Food?_

_You bet._

He should've known a cheeseburger and coffee would be the last meal.

* * *

He falls onto his back, 2 hours from the end, sweating, panting, body flushed. 

Beside him, an equally positioned body shifts and turns toward him. Moonlight glazing a white glow on him that's too much like…

_You'll be alright,_ he says.

It's firm, a plea hidden between the letters for only him to hear. The lucidity of the voice galvanizing the anger he has sought so long to bury. Two hours of fighting and bitter accusations would waste air and breath and the tiny bit of happiness between them. He remains silent, hands lingering on the smooth, thrumming chest before he takes him again.

* * *

The gravel crunches. 

He smiles wryly. Or is that his heart?

Nights should never be this cold. Not so life-sucking cold.

The doors cry when they rise out, crushing the silence. He turns away, biting his lip, fingers tangled with the Colt. It's there for principle only.

They meet at the hood, body's a breath away. John's eyes, Mary's eyes, their eyes locking together. A death, a deal and year pushing them to his place where that final goodbye had to come.

Keys pass from warm hand to the other. The amulet. And then touches and shared breath. He's sobbing again but he was never the actor of the family. The wind rises, hovering the time above them but he refuses to release that warm mouth.

Full of their unsaid words, sweat and fear and old sex and need and want and coloring books and bitter fights and cautious hugs and first times that never felt wrong, and cereal and cartoons, the road, air and history.

A shudder runs through Dean's body, muscles tense with pain and Sam has a moment to pull away and look one last time into, at, through that face.

_Dean--_

But Dean smiles like it all meant nothing.

_Be alright._

And he falls.

End

* * *

Please review and tell me what you think!


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